


Bloody Stiles

by oshjoshmgosh



Series: Bittersweet Silence [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood Magic, Dark Stiles, Gen, Minor Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Powerful Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 15:49:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12708060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oshjoshmgosh/pseuds/oshjoshmgosh
Summary: Even though he had been exiled, Stiles never really left the pack to their own devices. Hiding in the shadows, he used knowledge left in him from the Nogitsune to keep Beacon Hills safe by whatever means necessary.When Scott is wounded badly enough to surpass Deaton's skill, the new members in Scott's pack learn why Scott exiled his best friend in the first place. After all, no good deed goes unpunished.





	Bloody Stiles

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a small piece I had in my head that I felt like getting out. I've always been interested in dark!stiles, and felt like writing one. This will link up to a broader story, but I'm still working out the actual plot and purpose, so for now there isn't a whole lot.  
> Enjoy!

Deaton looked up from his paperwork as a heavy crash rang the bell above the door to his clinic. Extending his senses as he rose, he felt the presence of several beings he had not seen in quite some time. He was growing rusty off it took him that long to recognize Scott and Malia! However quiet Beacon Hills had become in the preceding years, he had never thought he would need to try to sense the alpha of the local pack.

“Help! Dr. Deaton, we need help!” he picked up his pace at Malia’s words. His eyebrows lifted in surprise at the sight of the young woman hauling Scott in a fireman carry. Liam banged through the doors shortly afterward, followed by Mason. “He’s been poisoned. He’s paralyzed.”

“Another Kanima?” Deaton’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. What were the odds they would have two Kanimas in Beacon Hills within a single lifetime? The creatures were beyond rare. He stopped his musings as Liam shook his head frantically. Malia ignored them all to carry their alpha into the back room, depositing his dead weight on an exam table.

“He looked human at first, but he had a scorpion tail. And when he hissed he had a lot of teeth. Like, a lot. Rows of razor sharp teeth. He also had poisonous green eyes. ” Alan felt the blood leave his head as Mason described the creature they had fought. “Kinda like the stereotypical acid-spill hazmat green.”

No.

It couldn’t be.

“You must be mistaken. Are you certain of that description? Perhaps you imagined some things.” Please, they had to have imagined those things. Deaton had not believed in a loving God in decades now, but he sent a silent prayer out to whoever was listening that the boys were mistaken.

“No, that’s what we fought.” Malia stated matter of factly. “Why does it matter? Just fix him and we'll go kill it.” Alan Deaton felt his heart drop as his eyes closed. Bowing his head, he took a seat and rested his face in his hands.

“Doc?” Liam stepped forward hesitantly, his eyebrows drawn in concern. “Are you okay? Do we need a human doctor?” he shook his head in response, sitting back and taking in the children before him. The last year’s had been kind to all of them, and it seemed their reprieve was ending.

“I can’t heal Scott.”

“What do you mean? Of course you can. It’s just poison. Suck it out, or give him an antivenom or something.” He ignored Malia’s flippant suggestion in favor of locking tired eyes on Liam. The boy had just graduated high school. For all Scott had been even younger when he became an alpha, Liam seemed too young for this burden to fall to him.

“Doc? You…you can't…?” Deaton shook his head sadly.

“The creature is a manticore. Their venom is…changeable. It is magical, and incurable. I have never heard of someone surviving being stung. Even an alpha werewolf will succumb sooner or later.”

“No!” Mason cried out in denial. Liam and Malia wore identical poleaxed expressions. “No, there's gotta be something!”

Deaton opened his mouth to refute the exclamation, but was interrupted when a soft sussuration caused Malia and Liam to bound suddenly toward their alpha.

“Scott!!” Liam leaned forward to stare into Scott’s barely-open eyes. The whisper repeated and Liam leaned down to hear better.

“He wants…Stiles. And claws.” He pulled away to glare in confusion. “Scott, what?” the alpha eyes closed and he breathed as deeply as his numb body would allow, and his head tilted. The air rushed out of him as though that single action, baring the side of his throat to them, had taken all his energy. Deaton, staring at the revealed back of Scott’s neck, understood.

“He wants to share a memory with you, Liam. Use your claws to enter his mind.”

“But I’ve never done that before!! What if I do it wrong?! And how will that help? We need a cure, not a memory!”

“If to see his best friend is his last wish, Liam, are you really going to squander it looking for a cure that does not exist?” Deaton asked quietly. He had no hope for Scott’s survival. The least he could do is grant the boys dying wish.

Liam relented with only token protest, allowing Deaton to line his claws up with the spaces in Scott’s vertebrae that would allow access to his memories. Liam gasped as he went in, whatever memory Scott was sharing consuming him. Several moment passed in silence before the young werewolf stumbled back into reality with a gasp, breath heaving. Liam growled before prowling to an open space in the room and slicing his wrist open with a sharp motion of a claw.

“He wants me to summon Stiles.”

“Summon…?” Deaton knew summoning certain beings was possible, but he had never heard of a circle drawn in blood being a requirement. Nor of a human being the summoned being. Regardless, he refrained from stopping him as Liam completed the circle and stepped back.

 _“Dedi sanguinem, protulit amicum_.”

As soon as Liam’s sub par Latin incantation left his lips, the lights in the clinic blinked out. Deaton was surprised at the completeness of the darkness; no light from the windows filtered in, nor did the glow from the werewolves eyes he knew would be trying to peer through the darkness reach him. Mere seconds passed before the light returned, causing the three youth to jump in surprise at the newcomer in their midst.

Stiles looked good, he had to admit. He had never heard of anyone taking to banishment well, but clearly the boy had not been wasting his life away. The young man stood tall, leanly muscled frame visible beneath the simple t-shirt and jeans he wore. He swore as soon as his eyes landed on Scott’s still form on the table.

“Shit! Scott, what the hell did you get into?” Before anyone could collect themselves enough from his appearance to answer, he pulled a knife none of them had seen and drew a thin line down Scott’s arm. Liam growled and looked about to pounce, but Stiles froze him with a glare while he swiped a finger through his best friends blood and stuck it in his mouth.

He promptly spit on the floor, sputtering and coughing. A glass of water appeared in his hands and he drew deeply, swished and spit back into the cup before it vanished from the void Stiles had conjured it from. Deaton had no words.

“Fuckin manticore. Seriously? How did I miss that?!” He then turned to look at them all, eyes boring into their souls. He extended a finger at Liam. “You. Let’s go, we gotta fix him.” He stepped forward and grabbed the young werewolf’s arm before anyone could protest.

And disappeared.

There was no flash of light, or impenetrable darkness as before. One moment he was reaching out for Liam, the next both boys were simply gone as though they had never been there. Mason and Malia were staring at where the duo had been with wide eyes.

Deaton was certain he looked the same.

***

Liam blinked as Stiles grabbed his arm in the clinic, and let go of him somewhere else. He had only blinked!

“Stiles, what the hell?!”

“Shut up. I need your help. Well, I don’t, but your healing and near endless supply of blood will be incredibly useful. Now shut up and let me cut you.”

“What! No!” he leapt back and bared his fangs at Stiles, prepared to fight the insane older boy. Stiles had been kicked out of their pack for slaughtering someone, and clearly his time away had only twisted him further. Instead of looking at all concerned at Liam’s threat, he rolled his eyes in annoyance. Liam growled and prepared to leap, offended.

“Do you want to save Scott or not?” he froze, and Stiles continued. “We’ve got about half an hour before he’s dead. You can either help me willingly, or I will force you. I’m not letting your soft stomach get Scott killed.”

“You…you can save him?” Stiles sighed the sigh of the aggrieved.

“Yes, why else would I be here? Now give me your arm.” Liam cautiously stuck his arm out. Stiles grabbed it and flipped it so his palm was face up, his hands firm and rough. “This is going to hurt. A lot. Try not to fight me.” With that bare warning, Stiles plunged a dagger he had certainly not been holding before deep into Liam’s forearm. He shouted, then screamed as Stiles dragged the knife down toward his wrist through skin and muscle. Blood erupted from the wound like a fountain.

Instead of spilling on the ground, the blood flowed into the air, directed in unnatural motions by Stiles hand. He flicked it away onto the pavement, the red liquid flowing into indecipherable shapes and patterns while Liam grit his teeth against the pain. Stiles uttered a string of words that made his ears tingle. The blood on the ground erupted into flames. Stiles turned back to face Liam and locked on to his eyes. “This is really going to hurt, okay? I promise you won’t die, nor will you be permanently injured.”

With the words of caution striking terror into his heart, Stiles pushed his fingers into the wound in Liam's arm. He growled and then screamed as Stiles drew something sharp out of his forearm. The object revealed itself to be a stiletto knife, the thin blade clenched in Stiles bloodied fingers while the rest of it was impossibly drawn from between Liam’s bones.

His scream was echoed by one he had heard before. His eyes widened as he looked over Stiles shoulder to find the same creature that had poisoned Scott – the manticore – poised in the flaming blood art to pounce. Stiles drew the dagger fully, flipped it in the air to clutch it underhanded by the hilt, then plunged it into Liam's heart.

Liam gasped.

The manticore screamed and dropped to the ground with its cry cut off.

Pain erupted in Liam’s chest and it was all he could do to not cry. He had not cried from pain since he was eight, but the pain radiating from the dagger, the literal hole in his chest, was enough to bring tears to his eyes as he cried out.

The thought that he was not dead or unconscious from being stabbed through the heart was not a thought that registered in his pain-addled mind.

***

Mason whirled about as Stiles and Liam reappeared without warning, Liam screaming and crying while clutching a dagger _sticking out from his heart_!

“Don’t touch him!” Mason froze at Stiles’ barked order, noticing the figure he carried for the first time. Stiles dropped the human figure on its front, the scorpion tail flopping limply to it’s side. “That dagger is the only thing keeping this guy still.” Mason grew pale at the words and settled by Liam's head, clenching his fingers in his best friend's hair while he cried, helpless.

“Mason it hurts. It hurts…so much.” He had never seen Liam in so much pain before. It hurt just looking at him, watching his fingers and muscles clench in a pain he could only imagine.

This was why Scott had banished Stiles. He looked up and watched in horror as the older boy drew slash after slash into the manticore’s limp form, tracing bloody patterns on the floor around it. That the human could cause so much pain – to one of his friends! – and not even bat an eye. That was reason enough for him to be out of the pack.

But he was doing this for Scott. For some reason he believed that Stiles was actually working to save Scott's life, despite how he had been treated years ago.

Stiles suddenly leapt to his feet, blood caking his arms and the sharp end of the manticore's tail held firmly in one hand, the dripping dagger in his other. He traced more patterns in Scott's skin with the creatures blood, dipping his fingers in the splashes on his arms and shirt like a monstrous toddler causing a mess while they made a fingerpainting.

“Sorry buddy, but this is gonna hurt. But better out than…in…that was dumb.” He said flippantly as he plunged the stinger into Scott's stomach. Mason and Malia yelped in astonishment, unsure of what the hell the human was doing. He was supposed to be saving Scott!!!

Both of them flinched as Scott sat up with a roar, Stiles withdrawing the stinger as their alpha fell back to the table, trembling and panting but very clearly not dead or paralyzed.

Stiles carded his bloody fingers through Scott's hair, holding his eyes and smiling tenderly. “You alright?” Scott inhaled deeply, swallowed, and nodded. Mason watched in confusion as Stiles shook his hand gently in Scott's hair before turning back to the manticore.

His eyes were wide, unbelieving in spite of all he had seen so far, as Stiles reached down to grasp the manticore's head, uttered a few words Mason was unable to hear, then twisted and _pulled its head off_!

The dagger in Liam's chest melted into a puddle of blood that ran off his side’s and stained his shirt. He sat up with a gasp, clutching his chest and shuddering. He fell back against Mason and let out a final sob as he breathed heavily, the pain clearly receding at last.

“Stiles.” Mason looked up toward the boy in question as Dr. Deaton called his name quietly.

He was gone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, having actually started writing the main series, I've kinda decided to retcon this. It's no longer going to be actually connected, because where I've decided to go will never intersect with this fic. This was meant to take place when stiles and scott were like, 21 or something. Now it's just a thing I wrote that served as the inspiration for the new first part of the series, Bittersweet Silence.


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